iRemember
by nleslie
Summary: Sam questions whether this decision is right- she's been gifted with the chance to choose her own future. So what, or rather who, does she pick? // I submitted this at 12 pm so please keep that in mind! Very loosely based on SATC. Absolute Seddie!


**Thank you for clicking!**

I got the idea for iRemember while watching the Sex and the City movie. If you've seen it, you might know what I'm thinking about. When I saw Carrie, something sparked in my mind and I thought of Sam. I know: who could be more opposite, right? Carrie Bradshaw and Sam Puckett (well, there's always Charlotte...). But we're all the same inside I think. Just wanting to be happy, to be with the one we know is right for who we are, who loves us for who we are. And it doesn't really matter what you do, or how you grew up. Everyone shares that desire. We all want the one. Sometimes it's hard to find them, but once they're there, that's all that matters. They're yours. You're theirs. You cherish the thought and appreciate what you've got. Because who knows if there's only one? Whenever something sad happens to us, it's always best to know that there's that small inkling of possibility in the back of our minds and that drives us forward and sits us back on our feet again. And we go on! And we never give up. Because everyone has the same chance, and we're really all the same. Love love! Celebrate it!

Ok, silly girly rant over. (Or was it a rave?) And on with the show, eh? :) I hope you like it.

Please comment. It means the world to us writing types. :P

Nora.

--

I remember.

I remember it all now, as I stand here, on this stool. I look forward, and my appearance is echoed by the half-moon of mirrors around me. I look down, and I see a big white skirt that hits the floor and grey merle carpet. I look next to me, and I see my mom. Then I look to my other side, and see my best friends. They smile, one cries, another is singing. Yet I have no words to speak, and still nothing comes to mind to break me away from this trance I seem to be in. I close my eyes and the music plays in my mind. This song I hear is not playing in the room I'm in. No, this song is special. I'm not even sure it exists. But somehow it's there, and for a minute I forget where I am.

In my mind, I am not here. In my mind, I am somewhere very far away. Nowhere near this church or my family. I can't name the place I'm in, but it feels real and safe. And then I see him, and my spirit lifts. I smile inside, step off what seems to be a porch, and my foot hits sand. I walk forward, almost floating it seems. I reach him and he turns to me with a smile. His skin radiates with the sun and I feel that oh-so familiar feeling yet again. And he reaches out his arms to me, I can almost taste it. But nothing comes. Just the reality of where I am. Not there- no, that is only in my mind. The song fades like my heart and I reopen my eyes.

I meet my reflection head on, and I do not recognize the girl looking back at me.

This girl is not me. I don't wear makeup, or dresses. And I certainly don't wear white. For a moment, the thought makes the corners of my mouth want to rise, but somehow they can't seem to move. The girl invading my reflection looks smug, like she knows something I do not. I clench my hand into a fist to help deny this aching in my heart. She is tempting me.

But I can't do it.

I blink, and when I open my eyes again, I see a different girl again. This girl isn't smug, she's heartbroken. It's evident by the expression on her face. This girl hasn't told anyone why she feels this way, but I know. I know this girl, because she's me. And she looks at me as if to ask me, 'is this really what you want?'

But can I?

The day is perfect. A fairy tale. Why can't I appreciate that? Why do I have to dwell on my own mistakes? Why can't I accept that what I'm getting here is what many girls dream of all their lives?

Because the thing those girls dream of is their perfect one. And even though mine is great, I know he isn't really mine. Because mine isn't perfect. In fact, he's flawed: just like me. And he's not the one waiting at the altar dressed in an expensive suit. He's not the one waiting at the altar for me.

I look to my other side again and see my friends. My eyes meet the ones of my most trusted friend, and she seems to know exactly how I feel. We don't need to even paint on an expression, because sometimes silence means everything.

She puts down her camera, and her other hand sets a glass of champagne onto the wooden table next to her. She walks, and as she does I step off of the stool. I force my way out of this dress. It feels like armor. Then I pull off that stupid veil and wipe the lipstick off of my mouth with the back of my hand. She hands me a pair of jeans, I step into them gladly. Then I am handed the shirt I arrived in, and I put that on as well. Without looking back, I walk out of the church alone.

I hear them ask me why, and how. But they sound like waves against the sea. Nothing.

Because I remember, and I see. And this isn't what I am looking for.

I walk down the street, extend an arm to the street, and then I step into the car that has pulled up beside me. I am greeted by brown hair, brown eyes, and suddenly I'm home again. I don't need to close my eyes to be there, because for the first time in a long time it's really reality.

I turn to him as the car picks up it's speed again. He smiles, and it's the best smile I've ever seen. I smile, too. Heck to the guy left questioning himself at the altar. He's gonna be fine. Today is about me, and him. I scoot over and am greeted by his arm being wrapped around me. Safe. I breath out and rest into him.

'I knew you would come,' he said softly and I feel him kiss the top of my head. 'What made you?'

I smile, and I look up to meet his eyes.

'I remembered.'

--

That took me around 45 minutes but it seemed like five.

I hope it wasn't too repetitive. I wrote it at 11:30 at night. So my sense of judgement is way out the window.

By the way, Sam was the main character, Carly was the best friend, and Freddie was the one.

Just like it's meant to be, right?

Right. :)

Peace and Manolo Blahniks,

Nora.


End file.
